


Footprints

by Bickymonster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Fluff and Angst, Goblins, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Harry Potter, Hermione's Nook RarePair Soulmate Fest, Insecure Harry, M/M, Soulmates, St Mungo's Hospital, Tropes, Twenty-Something Harry, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bickymonster/pseuds/Bickymonster
Summary: The whole of wizarding Britain has been eagerly awaiting Harry’s twenty-fifth birthday, desperate to discover the identity of his soulmate. Harry, however, has his doubts, unsure he even has one. So when a certain Weasley unexpectedly shows up at his work on his birthday, he instinctively looks for the telltale sign.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Charlie Weasley, Harry Potter/Bill Weasley
Comments: 38
Kudos: 790
Collections: Bickymonster Harry Potter Oneshots, Harryivsetakoe, Hermione's Nook RarePair Soulmate Fest





	Footprints

**Author's Note:**

> Bill bustled around his living room, attempting to get ready for work. As his hand fell to his wand holster, he found it empty once more; he huffed irritably, locating his wand in the exact same spot as he had the previous two times he’d misplaced it that morning. Cursing his own absent-mindedness, he shoved it into his holster with a little more force than necessary.

He’d been waiting for this very day for almost a decade, and yet, despite how many times he’d planned for it in his mind, he found himself now crippled with uncharacteristic anxiety. He’d had trouble focusing all morning and it certainly didn’t bode well for the rest of his day, and it was making him glad for the full day of paperwork he had ahead of him. He wouldn’t have trusted himself out on-site anywhere. 

“Anyone might think you were nervous,” Charlie remarked with amusement, as he sauntered into the room and flumped down into the armchair. 

Saying nothing, Bill stopped long enough to throw him a glare before grabbing his boots and tugging them onto his feet without sitting down. A quick, wordless spell had the laces tying themselves neatly.

“The big, strong, brave curse-breaker actually scared of his own soulmate?” Charlie teased, clicking his tongue. “Surely not.”

“At least I know who mine is,” Bill retorted, detouring now toward the hallway in search of his coat. 

In other circumstances, he might have properly regretted such harsh words, having seen Charlie’s evasive reactions to any attempted discussion of his soulmate; but Bill’s mind was too anxiety-ridden for him to manage a full dose of guilt on top. He didn’t dare even glance at his brother, not wanting to see how hard the words had hit, but heard Charlie get up. 

Bill jumped, however, at the sudden unexpected touch on his arm. Instinctively his head jerked around to meet his brother’s eye.

“Wow, you are _seriously_ on edge,” Charlie remarked, drawing his hand back and holding them up in surrender. “You do realise he’s still just Harry, don’t you?“

“Just Harry.” Bill snorted derisively. “You say that like half the world hasn’t been spent the last month obsessing over who his soulmate is going to be. Notice how nobody is expecting it to be some older guy.”

“Because they’re assuming someone older would already know and be eager to proclaim it to the world,” Charlie pointed out with exasperation. “I mean… what kind of person would find out they’re destined to be with _the_ Harry Potter and then keep that to themselves.”

Bill met his gaze steadily. “The kind of guy who spent most of the last decade doing his utmost not to creep on his youngest brother’s best friend.” 

“Bill…” Charlie’s voice was thick with sympathy. 

He waved him off, turning once more to get his coat. “It’s fine,” he muttered. 

“Want to try that again with just a smidge more enthusiasm?” Charlie questioned. 

Swinging his coat around and on, Bill threw him another look before forcing a too-wide smile. 

“It’s gonna be wonderful. Perfect even,” he remarked sarcastically. “There’s no way this could go wrong at all.”

“Convincing,” Charlie said dryly. 

Bill ignored him as he headed toward the fireplace. 

“Is that why you’ve not told anyone in the family?” Charlie questioned, sticking close behind him. “They’ll all be happy for you, you know. Both of you.” 

Still, Bill said nothing, instead, taking a pinch of floo powder from the rune-covered silver bowl on the mantle. 

“You can’t just run from this, Bill. You know they’re all going to find out.”

“Bye, Charlie,” Bill said dismissively, as he threw the powder into the flames, stepping into them the moment it turned green. “Gringotts,” he commanded, sending him spiralling through the floo. 

-#-

Harry took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall of the blissfully empty lift as he headed down to the staff area. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back and relished the quiet for a few moments. 

He’d never much liked the press, but the closer it got to his twenty-fifth birthday, the more his ambivalent distrust turned to dislike and even hatred. Now that the day was upon them, the situation was reaching boiling point. 

It had already been one of the hardest days he’d had to work in his four years at Saint Mungo’s, and he was less than halfway through his shift. It was proving nigh on impossible to escape the trail of reporters and the same constant barrage of questions he’d been trying to avoid for weeks. And it wasn’t just the reporters; several of his patients had felt the need to ask about his soulmate’s identity, as though he’d tell them, even if he did know. 

The entire situation was stretching his patience, and threatening to shatter the calm bedside manner he’d spent years perfecting. 

As the lift came to a stop, Harry hastily composed himself and turned to face the doors as they dinged open. A couple of fellow healers, whose names he didn’t know, stood there waiting. He braced himself, but they both simply smiled and greeted him with nods, waiting for him to step out before entering the lift themselves. 

He was eternally grateful that his colleagues seemed to have enough respect for him to at least put up a pretence of minding their own business.

“Hey, Potter.” 

Harry’s mind was already filling with dread as he turned toward the man who had spoken; though the tension drained quickly from his body as he recognised the security guard. Lang had never been one to pry beyond what he needed to know to do his job. 

“You’ve got a visitor,” Lang informed him. 

Harry frowned; he wasn’t expecting anyone. It was rare that anyone visited him at work, and he already had plans to see his friends that evening for his celebratory dinner at the Burrow. Given everything, he felt justified in his cautious hesitation.

“Red hair, kind of stocky,” Lang described when Harry continued to just stare at him vaguely. “Looks like he spends his time wrestling rocks or something?” 

Surprisingly, Harry knew exactly who Lang meant and he might have been able to enjoy the man's description of Charlie Weasley a whole lot more, had his brain not just spun off in a new direction. He could, after all, only think of one reason Charlie would decide to come visit him at work, rather than waiting to celebrate his birthday with everyone else later. 

“You know him?" Lang questioned uncertainly. "Should I get rid of him?" 

"No, no," Harry answered quickly, suddenly jumping into action and hurrying to join Lang. "I know him. It’s fine. I just... wasn't expecting anyone," he explained vaguely, his mind still spinning as he followed him toward the staff entrance. 

“I could just tell him you’re busy,” Lang offered, glancing at Harry with concern. 

Tempted as he was to accept, Harry shook his head. He was too confused and curious to let Charlie just leave; he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate for the rest of the day if he walked away now. He needed answers. 

As they reached the small security area, Charlie was waiting for them, leaning sideways against the wall and looking every bit his usual confident self. He smiled broadly. 

“You good?” Lang asked pointedly. 

“Uh-huh,” Harry assured him with a nod, not breaking his gaze from Charlie’s. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Harry was vaguely aware of Lang heading back to his desk, but his attention was fully on Charlie, who pushed off the wall, not moving from the spot where he was standing. Harry felt his cheeks flush inexplicably warm as his gaze trailed up from Charlie’s unmoving feet, to meet his eye. He’d never been so aware of how much taller Charlie was, or how the muscles of his arms strained against his shirt, or the bright blue of his eyes. 

“Hey! Wasn’t sure you’d be free yet,” Charlie remarked happily. 

“Supervisor insisted I take an early break. Though, honestly,” Harry said with a shrug, “not sure if that was for my sake or theirs.”

Charlie’s mouth quirked into a teasing grin. “You’re that hard to work with?” 

“Oh, yeah, the worst,” Harry agreed sarcastically, attempting to cover the strange awkwardness he was feeling with a laugh. 

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Charlie asked, glancing at Lang, who was back at his desk now, attempting not to eavesdrop. 

“Sure,” Harry agreed easily, gesturing to the door behind him. Heart hammering in his chest, he turned and led the way into the small waiting room. 

He’d been half-convinced Ron would be wrong and nothing would happen on his twenty-fifth birthday, that it would be no different than any other year, that magic wouldn’t have found anyone for him. Despite the hope flaring in him now, he certainly hadn’t expected to be facing the prospect of a life with Charlie Weasley, of all people. And he had no idea how to feel about that. 

Inside the room, his eyes drifted instinctively to the other man’s feet. He watched closely as Charlie took several steps while closing the door behind them, but frowned when he saw nothing. His heart plummeted, feeling foolish for even having hoped.

Looking away from Charlie, he took a seat on one of the small sofas. His gaze down, he discreetly watched the other man stride across the room, each blank, non-magical footprint confirming once more how wrong his assumption had been.

“So…” Harry said as Charlie sat across from him, “...I’m guessing you’re _not_ here to tell me you’re my soulmate?” 

A small, surprised laugh burst from Charlie, but he cut himself off quickly, shaking his head as he shifted in his seat, trying to regain his composure. Harry, unsure whether he should be offended, tried not to take it personally. It wasn’t as though he’d been totally taken with the idea of Charlie being his destined mate, even if the idea of having someone was appealing. 

“Sorry,” Charlie apologised. “I just... really wasn’t expecting that. Though maybe I should’ve, what with me showing up here like this.”

“I mean… yeah, I am kind of wondering why you’re here,” Harry admitted. “Not that I mind, of course,” he hastily added, “I am glad to see you and everything, but…”

“Why couldn’t this wait until tonight?” Charlie finished for him, smiling wryly. 

“Well…yeah.”

“This is about your soulmate.”

Harry’s body tensed at Charlie’s words, dread filling him. As much as he’d often suspected he was destined to be alone, he didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want it confirmed. 

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “You don’t need to…” Harry trailed off, shaking his head. 

“You already know?” Charlie questioned, frowning. 

“I’ve suspected for a while,” Harry told him sadly, arms resting over his knees as he stared at the carpet by his feet.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“Happy?” Harry looked up, his burrow furrowed. “Why?”

Charlie seemed every bit as confused as Harry felt. 

“Maybe because Bill’s a good guy…” he stated, sounding terribly uncertain now. “Because you’d be good for each other. Because he’s ridiculously tall and apparently handsome. Or perhaps simply because it would make you family. More than you already are, I mean.”

“Uhh… what?” Harry asked, certain now they’d got their wires crossed somewhere.

“I’m starting to think you didn’t actually know Bill was your mate,” Charlie said softly, sounding rather relieved. 

It was Harry’s turn to laugh wryly now. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Nope,” Charlie said, popping the word out smugly.

“Bill…?”

“Yeah,” Charlie confirmed. Harry’s scepticism seemed to only increase his amusement. “What in Merlin’s name did you think I was talking about?”

“I…” Harry hesitated, his cheeks flushing, feeling suddenly foolish once more. He ducked his head, mumbling, “I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.”

“What? Of course, you do,” Charlie exclaimed, seeming genuinely alarmed by the suggestion. “Everyone has a soulmate, someone that’s right for them; it’s just up to us what we do with that information once we have it.”

Harry let out a long, slow breath. “And you’re sure about Bill?” 

Charlie chuckled softly, an earnest smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

“Completely.”

“Then why are you here, and not him?” Harry pointed out. “Unless he’s already decided he doesn’t want to…”

“No, no!” Charlie interrupted. “That’s not it at all. Believe me, he definitely wants to be with you; otherwise, he wouldn’t be so damned nervous. But the whole of wizarding Britain’s been making such a big deal out of you discovering your mate.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grumbled under his breath.

“Well, you could see how that would be a lot of pressure.”

Harry nodded. He did understand, more than he wanted to. The constant questions from reporters had, after all, driven his own insecurities through the roof. But it brought another question to mind. 

“How long has he known?”

“Ummm… a while?” Charlie said hesitantly. “I think he just didn’t want to put this on you on top of everything. And with you being Ron’s best friend, and so much younger than him and…”

“It’s fine,” Harry assured, cutting him off. “I get it.” 

“Is this an actual ‘you get it’?” Charlie questioned. “Or a Harry thinks he doesn’t deserve to be loved, ‘you get it’?”

“Can it be both?” he asked with a crooked, wry smile.

“Nice try,” Charlie said with a small laugh. “But seriously though, I came to you because I thought you deserved the truth and my idiot of a brother has apparently been putting off telling you for years.”

“Not sure what you want me to do,” Harry told him with a shrug. “I’m not going to force Bill into something he doesn’t want.”

“I want you to use some of that Gryffindor bravery you’re so famous for and shake some sense into him,” Charlie suggested. “Though it’s starting to sound like you could do with some shaking of your own. I assume you are interested in him?”

Harry took a moment to seriously consider the prospect, thinking of Bill’s tall muscular figure, his ocean blue eyes, the way he laughed, the way he smiled. A smile crept onto his own lips as he pictured him.

“Yeah,” Charlie remarked smugly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Okay fine.” Harry agreed, feeling stranded somewhere between excited and terrified but needing to do something. He pushed himself to his feet. “Do you have a plan?” 

“Not exactly,” Charlie admitted getting up a little more slowly and following as Harry led them toward the door. “But guess we’re not going to figure anything out just sitting around here.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Harry turned to grin at him over his shoulder, the knowledge that he actually had a soulmate lifting his mood more every moment. “I like the play-it-by-ear plans. Besides, it’s only got me killed once. That’s a pretty good track record.”

“Only for you!” Charlie pointed out with a laugh as they headed back out in the security area. “But I suppose the lack of evil madmen involved does give me some hope for our survival.” 

“Such an optimist,” Harry remarked, turning to grin at him. 

Charlie, however, wasn’t looking remotely amused or paying him the slightest bit of attention. He had come to an abrupt stop just outside the waiting room, his hand still on the door as he stared, slack-jawed, toward the security desk. 

Harry followed his gaze, to the familiar lanky, blond standing there. He frowned in confusion.

Seeming to sense their presence, the blond man jolted around to glare at them, his eyes already narrowed in suspicion. It was an expression Harry was quite familiar with, though he hadn’t seen it in some time, not since the first few months they’d spent working together. 

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted dismissively, before his gaze flickered to Charlie, narrowing further. “Weasley.”

“Malfoy,” Charlie said the name slowly. 

His soft and almost reverent tone caught Harry so off guard, he almost cricked his neck in his haste to turn and blink at him.

Charlie took a step closer to Malfoy and Harry saw the moment Malfoy’s attention was drawn downward, and the surprise that spread across Malfoy’s face before he had a chance to stop it. Charlie too, Harry realised, was glancing downward, and the pieces fell into place with dawning horror. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry muttered under his breath. 

“You’re…” Malfoy trailed off, words apparently failing him. “Nope,” he declared instead turning and striding past the security desk and further into the hospital. 

“Wait!” Charlie exclaimed as he shook himself from his stunned stupor and hurried after him. 

“Stop. You can’t just…!” Lang shouted.

“I’ll vouch for him,” Harry interrupted with an exasperated sigh, already following after them. “So much for the lack of evil madmen," he muttered under his breath.

-#-

Draco strode quickly along the hallway of Saint Mungo’s, holding his head high as he made his way toward the staff changing rooms. 

“Malfoy!” Weasley called again.

He heard footsteps behind him quicken as Weasley attempted to catch up. Without turning to look, Draco increased his pace, all but running now. He didn’t want to see the iridescent footprints he knew would be there, proof this was the man magic had chosen for him.

Some part of him knew he couldn’t just ignore this, ignore his destined mate, but he couldn’t just stand there and accept it either. He felt as though the fates were laughing at him. And while he supposed he might have deserved it after some of the things he’d done in his youth, hadn’t he already shown how much he had changed? He was, after all, a dedicated Healer now. 

“I just want to talk!” Weasley exclaimed desperately, actually running now and catching hold of Draco’s arm. 

Draco rounded on him with a glare, tearing his arm from Weasley’s grasp. 

“Talk?” Draco questioned with a derisive snort, crossing his arms over his chest. “Pretty sure talking wasn’t what magic was intending when it paired us together.” 

“Maybe not,” Weasley agreed with a shrug, “but isn’t a conversation a good place to start. Unless you have a better idea?”

Draco’s cheeks flushed at the salacious implication.

“Got him blushing already,” Potter remarked as he reached them, reminding Draco that they weren’t alone. “Maybe you are better matched than I expected.”

“This is a private matter, Potter,” Draco sneered. “We do not require your input.” 

“Sorry, Harry, but I think Malfoy’s right,” Weasley added apologetically, surprising Draco a little with his easy agreement. 

“It’s fine. I need to go and try and get out of the rest of my shift anyway,” Potter told them with a shrug. “Apparently I have a private conversation of my own to deal with.”

“Shit,” Charlie muttered under his breath. “I’m supposed to be helping you with that.” 

“It’s fine, seriously,” Potter told him earnestly. “You definitely have bigger fish to fry right now.” 

Draco didn’t miss the pointed glance in his direction, but was too relieved not to have Potter observing what was already winding up to be a potentially awkward conversation. 

“Shall I let Healer Manning know you’re going to be running late?” Potter offered.

Draco blinked at him for a moment before managing to nod. “That would be… helpful,” he admitted.

“Yeah, no problem,” Potter assured him dismissively, waving him off as he headed off toward the lift back to the main wards.

“So, Malfoy, your place or mine?” Weasley asked with a broad grin. 

“Nice try, Weasley. How about we start with that conversation you mentioned?” Draco suggested.

“How about we start with first names, given we’re apparently going to be seeing a lot more of each other. I’m Charlie,” Weasley said, holding out his hand.

Draco glanced at the held out hand, down at the slowly fading iridescent footprints, and back up to meet his eye. 

He’d always known this day would come, though admittedly he hadn’t expected it to be so soon after his twenty-fifth birthday, and he certainly hadn’t expected a Weasley. He’d grown up with the expectation of finding and being with his mate, just as most of the wizarding world did. However, in recent years he’d rebelled against the idea, not wanting to let anyone dictate his future again. But now, faced with the reality, he was curious, despite himself and resolved to give Charlie a chance.

He nodded as he took the hand. 

“Draco.”

“Okay Draco, would you do me the honour of joining me for lunch?” Charlie asked, his grin as wide as ever. 

Glancing over his shoulder toward his impending workday, Draco took a moment to consider his options before turning back to the admittedly handsome redhead.

“Lunch would be acceptable,” Draco told him, gesturing for Charlie to lead the way. 

-#- 

Bill scrawled his name on the bottom of the last form, already half getting to his feet as he did so. He dried the ink with a quick wave of his wand, rolled up the parchment and shoved it into the box behind his desk, the form vanishing almost instantly as it went to be filed. 

Grabbing his coat from the hook by the door, Bill threw it on as he hurried out of his office. 

“Mr Weasley, leaving already?” Garrak remarked as he hopped down from behind the supervisor’s desk in the hallway.

“The reports are all filed and I’ve already organised the team for the thing in Moscow next week,” Bill remarked, not slowing, even as Garrak hurried to keep up. “Oh, and the Egyptian minister has officially agreed to allow our curse breakers to go in first, but…” He shrugged.

“Hmm, quite right, he’s not to be trusted,” Garrak grumbled angrily.

“Exactly, so you might want to send Arnold over tomorrow to scope out the area again,” Bill suggested. “See if we can hurry things along and make sure nobody tries anything before we’re ready.”

Garrak grunted, coming to a stop. “Be in early tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Bill agreed, pausing long enough to bow to the senior Gobin before continuing onward alone.

He knew it was the closest he’d get to permission to leave early, and while he normally respected their intense work ethic, today he had other priorities. Though he wasn’t going to waste his time trying to explain family emergencies to the Goblins.

The single large fireplace, in the compact room at the far end of the office, was kept permanently lit, leaving the room just slightly too warm; on the mantle was a plain silver dish kept filled with floo powder. The whole room had been fitted almost a hundred years earlier when the number of wizarding staff working for Gringotts had increased. It had taken some convincing for them to agree to its installation, but despite the Goblins refusing to ever make use of it themselves, Bill knew they appreciated how promptly it enabled their wizarding staff to arrive.

Throwing a pinch of floo powder into the flames, Bill stepped into the fire. 

“Saint Mungo’s,” he instructed.

He pulled his arms in close to his sides as he was thrown through the floo network, a blur of rooms rushing past him before his eyes. 

It was only a matter of seconds before he was spilling out in the hospital’s main waiting room. Only experience enabled him to maintain some decorum as he managed to remain upright. Dusting off the soot from his robes, he promptly stepped aside, only a moment before a harassed-looking mother and her green-furred toddler tumbled out after him. He spared them barely a look before heading for the door to the left of the reception desk, labelled staff entrance.

Bill attempted to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest as he made his way through the door, into a second, smaller reception area. 

“I’m looking for Harry Potter,” Bill informed the security guard at the desk. “I’m a friend.”

"Potter sure is popular today," the guard remarked, looking up from his paper. 

"He is?" Bill questioned, his brow furrowed. 

"Another friend of his was here not long ago. He looked a little like you, actually," the guard remarked, looking Bill over.

Bill blinked at him in surprise. He hadn't known Ron was intending to visit Harry at work, but then he didn't know most of what his youngest brother got up to these days, and it wasn't all that surprising he'd visit his best friend on his birthday. 

“A kind of lanky guy, red hair, a faceful of freckles, about yea tall?” Bill questioned, indicating a little bit shorter than himself. 

"Nah, he was kind of stocky," the guard corrected. "Rough around the edges." 

“Charlie?” Bill muttered under his breath. “My brother,” he explained.

He had not seen that coming, and he could only worry as to how his brother had meddled now. He hoped Charlie hadn't already said too much, and he prayed to magic herself that he wouldn't have to do too much damage control. 

"Is Harry here? Can I speak to him?" he asked. 

"Oh, sorry," the guard said. "They both left." 

Bill blinked at him, his heart skipping a beat at that news. 

"Together?” he asked. 

“Oh. No.” The guard shook his head, sounding almost amused. “The stocky guy left with Healer Malfoy.”

“... wait… what?” Bill questioned, his head feeling as though it was starting to spin. 

He was still trying to wrap his head around why Charlie was there in the first place and was drawing a complete blank on why he would have gone anywhere with Malfoy. Particularly given he’d apparently been there to see Harry. He'd worry about that later though. 

"When did Harry leave?" he asked. "Did he say where he was going?" 

The guard shook his head. "Was only about half an hour ago, but he just said it was an urgent family matter. Sorry I can’t help more,” the security guard remarked, going back to his paper. 

“No, it’s… fine. Thanks,” Bill replied distractedly as he turned to leave. 

He made his way back through to the main waiting room. Absent-mindedly, he gazed over the general mayhem as he attempted to pull together some kind of thought, trying to figure out where to start looking for Harry now. 

"Damn it, Charlie," he cursed under his breath. 

-#-

"I need to speak to Bill Weasley," Harry insisted as he strode up to the main desk at Gringotts. "It's an urgent family matter." 

The goblin behind the desk finished what he was writing before slowly looking up. He peered down at Harry with narrowed eyes for a moment before huffing and looking back to the tome in front of him. 

“This is a bank, Mr Potter,” he grumbled dismissively. 

“Yes, and Bill works here,” Harry pointed out insistently. He waited for a moment but the goblin showed no reaction. “I know he’s working today. Please.”

“Mr Potter, can I help you with anything related to your vaults?” the goblin asked irritably, lowering the quill in his hand once more.

Harry sighed tiredly. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy getting to see Bill while he was at work, but he couldn’t just go back to the hospital and carry on as though his world wasn’t hanging on a knife-edge. He knew he should probably just wait until his party later, but if he was honest with himself, he’d never had that kind of patience.

“No, it’s just…” Harry started, however, he was promptly interrupted by a shout from the other end of the lobby. 

“Mr Potter, if I can speak to you a moment!” 

Harry kept his gaze forward and grit his teeth, his hands clenched at his sides, the right one around his wand. He didn’t even need to turn to know this would be one of the many people who had made a career of harassing him every chance they got. 

“Can we go somewhere private?” Harry asked desperately. “Before your lobby turns into a gathering for the wizarding world’s most persistent reporters.”

The goblin, whose attention had also been drawn already by the man’s shout, returned to Harry. And although he appeared more annoyed than ever, he did slip down from his high stool. 

“Follow me, Mr Potter,” he instructed, already making his way toward a heavy-looking wooden door. “Quickly now!”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, hurrying after him and through the door, which swung open at the goblin’s touch. As the door thudded shut behind them, abrupt silence fell; the only sound was the surprisingly soft footfall of the goblin. Harry said nothing as he was led down the narrow, winding, but well-lit corridor, and shown into a small room. 

“Wait here,” the goblin instructed bluntly before quickly shutting the door once more, leaving a somewhat startled Harry there alone. 

“Okay…,” Harry said to nobody, blinking at the door which had just been shut in his face. “I guess I’ll just wait here then.”

Looking around the sombre, wooden-panelled office, he took a seat in the chair in front of the empty desk. He presumed it was used for private meetings with clients, but he’d never been in one before himself. He was more than happy for Hermione to manage such issues for him on the rare occasions they arose. 

However, after ten minutes or so, Harry felt he knew every inch of the very boring room and was starting to wonder if he’d just been abandoned there and forgotten; the goblins had rarely been too concerned with the survival of wizards who crossed their path, unless it was of particular benefit to them of course. 

He was just considering the potential risks of leaving and trying to navigate his own way back out when the door swung open again. Harry shot to his feet.

A particularly short and angry-looking goblin stood in the doorway. 

“Mr Weasley is not here. I will show you out,” he declared before turning and heading off down the hallway.

“Wait… what?” Harry exclaimed hurrying after him. “What do you mean he isn’t here? Where is he? Is he on a job?”

“No. He left,” the goblin informed him bluntly without a backward glance. 

“Okay…but… where did he go?” Harry asked, jogging to keep up.

The goblin turned abruptly to glare at him and Harry almost fell over himself in his haste to stop too. 

“We track important things, such as gold and treasure,” the goblin sneered, “not wizards.”

“Right. Sorry,” Harry muttered dryly.

As the goblin turned to carry on along the corridor, he kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. Truthfully, he really could have done without wasting the last half an hour, and he was still no closer to finding Bill than he had been when he’d left Saint Mungo’s. Logically, he knew the goblins probably weren’t purposefully keeping any information about Bill from him, but it was sometimes hard to believe the goblins weren’t deliberately screwing with him. 

Harry was still caught up trying to figure out where Bill might have gone, when they came to an abrupt stop once more, at the end of a corridor. Bright daylight filtered in suddenly, as a door, which Harry was sure hadn’t been there only seconds earlier, was swung open.

“Good day, Mr Potter.”

The dismissal was curt and Harry blinked a couple of times before quickly stepping out onto the unfamiliar street. However, by the time he looked back, intending to thank them for not taking him back through the main lobby, the door had already been shut behind him.

“Thanks,” he called out anyway just in case. 

There was, however, no one else around; none of the busting Diagon Alley customers, and no reporters. Pondering for just a moment longer, Harry focused on his memories of Bill and Charlie’s shared apartment, thinking he might have simply gone home early. It had to at least be worth a try.

So, letting out a small breath, Harry disapparated.

-#-

Bill meandered his way through the customers and colourful stands of merchandise in Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. The shop was busy, presumably due to the many children making the most of their summer holidays, and he had to linger off to one side and wait while Ron saw to the three people already queueing to pay at the desk. 

“Have a nice day,” Ron said jovially as he finished serving the first of the customers, seeing them off with a smile. It was then that he spotted Bill. “Give me a minute; I’ll be right with you,” he assured him. 

Bill nodded his understanding, busying himself with the display of books detailing ideas for pranks of every kind. Despite having grown up with Fred and George, even he was impressed by the range. 

“Verity, can you watch the till?” Ron requested.

By the time Bill turned back toward the desk, a blonde girl was switching places with Ron and taking over the sales for those who’d joined the queue. Ron headed straight over to join him, a worried frown on his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Have you seen Harry?” Bill asked without preamble

“Umm… no.” Ron blinked at him in confusion. “Not for a few days. Why? What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bill told him dismissively, turning to leave.

Ron, however, grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You can’t just do that,” he declared seriously. He glanced around the busy shop before gesturing for Bill to follow him. “Verity can watch the shop; we can talk privately out back.”

Bill glanced toward the shop door, wanting to go look for Harry, but knowing it wasn’t fair to leave Ron to worry. With a sigh, he followed his youngest brother. In the backroom, George was leaning over a large notebook, tapping a quill against his chin. As they approached he looked up, blinking at them in surprise. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted with a grin. “What’s going on?” 

“Bill’s looking for Harry,” Ron said pointedly.

“So much for talking privately,” Bill protested. 

“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait till this evening?” George asked curiously. 

“That’s what I want to know,” Ron agreed with a raised eyebrow. “Could it have something to do with a certain twenty-fifth birthday?”

“Wait! Charlie talked to you too?!” Bill asked with exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“So it _is_ true?” Ron questioned, staring at him with disbelief as he took a few steps back and all but fell into his desk chair. “Harry’s really your soulmate?”

“Wait, really?” George asked, sounding excited now. “I did always wonder why you came back to England.”

“That was for the war,” Bill insisted, cursing his own hot-headedness as he realised Charlie hadn’t told them anything and all he’d done was confirm Ron’s suspicions. 

“And you stayed after just because you thought living with Charlie would be so much fun?” Ron teased smugly.

Bill met his gaze flatly. He knew there would be no point denying his connection to Harry, but he didn’t want to discuss it with his brothers before he’d talked to Harry. It was one of the many reasons he’d always refused to talk about it with Charlie. 

“I really need to speak with Harry,” he insisted. “Any idea where I might find him?”

“Sorry, no idea,” George told him. 

“Me neither,” Ron admitted. “Though I would have thought he’d be at work today.”

“Already checked. Charlie went to talk to him there and then he left early, before his shift was over. I already checked at his place, no answer and I don’t know where else to try,” Bill informed them. “Any suggestions at all? Please.”

“Not really, sorry,” Ron said sincerely. “Though if you can find some kind of trouble, in my experience Harry won’t be far,” he added with a shrug.

“Thanks…” Bill remarked dryly. “Though the only trouble I have right now is too many unhelpful siblings.”

“Well, wait here with us then,” George suggested with a grin. “There’s always trouble around here, we are a joke shop after all. Maybe he’ll turn up here. Besides, there’s no point running around half the world looking for him when you could just talk to him tonight anyway.”

Bill huffed out a breath, reluctant to admit that George made a valid point; this rushing around was getting him nowhere. He at least needed a plan. Taking a seat on one of the stools at the work desk in the middle of the room, he leant on his crossed arms and tried to think. He tried to figure out anywhere else Harry might have gone and what exactly Charlie could have said to make Harry disappear like this.

However, he’d only been lost in his thoughts for a few moments when his attention was drawn by the thud of hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. They all turned toward the door to the upstairs apartment just as it flew open. 

“George! I need your…” Harry trailed off as he blinked at the occupants of the room. “...help,” he finished with little more than a squeak.

“See, I told you he’d show up,” George pointed out gleefully. 

Bill’s focus, however, was now entirely on the young man in the doorway, and the glowing trail of footprints down the stairs behind him. 

“Harry,” he said breathily, all but jumping to his feet. 

“Hi,” Harry greeted with a nervous laugh and an adorably awkward wave.

Bill’s brain managed to kick into action once more, and he blinked at Harry for a few seconds before turning to glare at Ron. 

“I thought you said you hadn’t seen him, that he wasn’t here?” he challenged through gritted teeth. 

“He wasn’t!” George and Ron defended in sync.

“It’s true, Bill, I just got here,” Harry said, scrubbing at his own hair and shifting his feet in awkwardness. “I… apparated in upstairs,” he explained with a shrug. “I was looking for you actually.”

“Me?” Bill questioned, his heart fluttering with unbidden hope. 

“Well… yeah,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I figured we should probably talk.”

“Yep, you should definitely talk,” George declared as he grabbed Ron by the arm and started dragging him bodily back toward the shop floor. “Take your time,” he added over his shoulder. 

“Hey, this is our office, George,” Ron protested, though he didn’t resist overly much, leaving Harry and Bill suddenly alone. 

“So… Charlie talked to you?” Bill asked. 

“He did,” Harry confirmed moving further into the room. 

Bill’s gaze once again fell to the iridescent footprints that followed. For years he had to look away or ignore them, never wanting anyone to know what he was seeing and now, for the first time he could stare at them openly. 

Harry glanced back, following Bill’s gaze to the floor behind him and a smile twitched at his lips as their eyes met. 

-#-

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest as he gazed across the back room of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, finding himself somewhat mesmerised by Bill’s crystal blue eyes. 

He’d never really taken time to look at him either, and realised everything he’d admired about Charlie at the hospital, in those few moments he’d imagined the possibility of Charlie being his mate, was true ten-fold for the man before him. He was tall and built, ruggedly handsome and yet had a smile that melted away the intimidation Harry was sure he was supposed to feel. This was a man he could imagine spending his life with.

“Fancy coming a few steps closer?” Harry requested. 

Bill gave him a knowing smile as he stepped around the table. He stopped and gave Harry a chance to look down at his feet before he took several very deliberate steps closer. Harry’s breath caught in his chest as several bright and unmistakably iridescent footprints were left in his wake. 

A sob rose unbidden at the sight as more than a decade’s worth of fears, the anxiety and doubt that had gnawed at him for so long, and the hope he hadn’t dared to let blossom, crashed down upon him all at once. 

He didn’t even see Bill move but, in an instant, those strong arms were holding him tightly as he sobbed against his chest. 

“You’re okay,” Bill promised earnestly, his voice soft. “You’re okay.”

“I just… I didn’t…” Harry sobbed, words catching in his throat. “I thought…”

“What?” Bill encouraged.

“I thought I’d never find you,” Harry stammered out, his sobs increasing as he clung to him, the swell of emotion overwhelming.

“Oh, Harry,” Bill said, holding him impossibly closer. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you long ago.”

“Yeah…,” Harry admitted with a wry laugh, the sound crackling through his tears, “...that might have been good.” 

“I’m here now,” Bill pointed out hopefully. 

“That helps,” Harry agreed, taking a deep, shaky breath. “You are staying, right?” he asked quietly, not daring to look up and meet Bill’s eye. 

“In this shop?” Bill questioned teasingly. “No. But with you? Absolutely. Forever if you’ll have me.”

Harry pulled back to grin up at him then. 

“Living with Charlie has grown old,” Bill added, his smile crooked as he shrugged with mock dismissiveness. “And besides, you’re much sexier.”

Harry laughed then, shaking his head. “Charlie’s probably going to need a new place soon anyway,” he added with a broad grin, brushing away the tears from his cheeks. “I don’t think Malfoy would approve of your little shared flat. He might be better than he used to be, but he’s still a snobbish arse with impossible standards.”

“What?” Bill questioned, blinking at him in surprise as he attempted to process that information. “That’s why Charlie left the hospital with him?” 

“News to me, but yep,” Harry said smugly. “Either way, I doubt Charlie’s going to show up to the party this evening.”

“Probably best for his health,” Bill stated. “I have a few choice words to have with him whenever I see him next.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He was just trying to help. And he did lead me to you, after all.”

“Could have done without his help,” Bill informed him gruffly. “I was already coming to talk to you about everything after work.”

“I went to find you at work, but you’d already left,” Harry told him. 

Bill laughed. “I think we must have just managed to miss each other all day.”

“Sounds like it. But we found each other now.”

“Sorry it took so long,” Bill said earnestly. 

Harry grinned. “Was worth the wait.”


End file.
